


Night Watch

by autobotscoutriella



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nonspecific Nightmares, Not exactly called that but that's what it is, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autobotscoutriella/pseuds/autobotscoutriella
Summary: Grath doesn't sleep well anymore. Inbar doesn't understand, but he tries. Set post-canon.





	Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved these two, but their happy ending in Pearls of Lutra felt too abrupt for me, especially with some interesting earlier near-arguments between them because of their drastically different outlooks (what with Grath being the only survivor of her family's murder, and Inbar being more-or-less a pacifist who's never been to war before). That being said, they are adorable together and I love it.
> 
> Also, there's very little fan stuff about them out there, which is a shame. Grath's always been one of my favorite characters.

Night breezes swept salt-tinged mist and seaspray across the black stone that formed Ruddaring's outer walls. Far below, where the mountain met the water, waves lapped softly against worn rocks, breaking up the reflection of a crescent moon and scattered stars. Inside the walls, wisps of mist curled lazily around carefully tended fruit trees, along the banks of two tiny freshwater ponds, and past the edge of the central seawater channel. Aside from the occasional distant call of a seabird, the no sound competed with the rumble of waves against rock and the rustle of wind in the tree branches. Every inhabitant of Ruddaring slept peacefully--save one.

Grath Longfletch perched on the crater rim, sheltered from the occasional strong gust of wind by a jutting outcrop that also served to mask her silhouette against the night sky. From this natural watchtower, Grath could see all of Ruddaring laid out below, or watch the sea stretching away to the horizons far beyond the secret sanctuary. Sleep did not come easily to the otter, and had not since the night Holt Lutra had been slaughtered for a pirate king's greed; the crater rim had become its own kind of sanctuary. The peaceful creatures of Ruddaring, as kind and welcoming as they had always been, did not understand the terrible nightmares that still woke her, or the smoldering flickers of anger that kept her from resting again.  She hoped they never would; it was a pain she would have wished on none but her greatest enemy.

To that end, when she could not sleep, she watched, bow laid across her lap and quiver propped against the rock at her side. The hidden island had not been troubled, or even approached, by any kind of Sea Raiders--or anyone other than the Sealking's folk--since Grath had come there, but she knew all too well that a history of safety was no guarantee.

Pawsteps crunched quietly along the narrow sandy path that led from the crater rim to the valley below, warning Grath of Inbar's approach well before he was close enough to startle her. Inbar could move in complete silence, if he chose to, but he--and all of Ruddaring--had learned only days after her arrival that Grath did not take well to being startled. Since then, the big otter had taken care to make some sound whenever approaching her.

Grath offered only a nod of acknowledgment when Inbar sat down beside her, waiting for him to speak and hoping he would not. She did not particularly want to talk; the sounds of the sea and the breeze were companion enough for her, on a night like this one. If she listened closely enough, sometimes it seemed she could almost hear the voices of her long-lost family mingling with the waves they had loved on a different shore. Any speech loud enough to drown it out would have broken the illusion forever.

Perhaps Inbar had sensed that desire, or had read something in her eyes; though he had arrived looking as if he meant to say something, he kept it to himself. They sat in silence, watching the seas and the horizons and sometimes glancing furtively at each other, until the moon sank low in the sky and the flickering reflections on the sea stretched out into long paths of light broken by each passing wave. Somewhere in the distance, a single seabird called, lonely trills echoing across the water to the walls of the hollow mountain.

In the end, it was Grath who spoke first. "Thanks for sittin' with me. Hope I didn't wake you."

"Not when y'left." Inbar turned from the sea to face her, though Grath did not quite meet his eyes. "I woke up after you'd gone."

Grath nodded, turning her gaze down to the idyllic scene below where their friends and family slept peacefully. They would start to stir with the dawn. Most of Ruddaring's inhabitants were early risers, especially on days that promised to be fine. "'S lovely weather. Would have been a shame to spend it all inside."

Her companion made a noise of assent, sparing only a brief glance down toward the holt below. They were both quiet for another few minutes before Inbar finally said, "War, pirates, raiders--they've never come to Ruddaring. We've always had peace here."

Grath knew, and did not point out that the same had once been true of Holt Lutra. Once, she would have, but it was too harsh. He had meant no harm. Instead, she answered, "Y' should get some sleep. Dawn's a few hours off yet."

Inbar nodded, but his gaze returned to her face. "What about you?"

Grath shrugged with a lightness she did not feel. "I've slept enough for one night. Might's well enjoy the breeze."

A heavy paw covered hers, resting on it without pressing down. "Two sets of eyes on watch 'r better than one. I've slept enough too."

He had not, and Grath knew it perfectly well. With the faintest hint of a smile, she patted his paw with her free one. "All right, if y'insist."

He was dozing against her shoulder by the time the sun started to creep above the eastern horizon.


End file.
